The Red Leaf
by Clouds and Rain
Summary: An anxious 17-year-old girl from the 21st century stays at the Martin household. She learns important life lessons that help her grow and expand, all while gaining a steadily increasing fascination for Thomas Martin and her new, wild freedom.
1. Raindrops, Fake Pearls

**Chapter 1:**

_I didn't know where I was. _

_Waking up in the back of a barn I did not recognize, completely naked, was enough to startle anybody._

_As an instinct, the very first thing that I did was rapidly cover my body with an abundance of hay. It was a disgusting thing to do, I realized, but there was a lot more to think about at the moment. My first instinct was to scream, but I didn't know where I was or if I was there on purpose. Had somebody taken me? Was I knocked out? Why don't I remember anything?_

_The last place I distinctly remember being was in my bedroom, asleep. _

_Realizing this, I wondered for a second if I was in a dream. Normally when I dream, I realize that I am dreaming and then I wake up. But nothing of that sort was happening._

_I could hear an old couple laughing and bantering amongst themselves over chores and other typical things._

_There were gray clouds forming along the previously radiant sky. The old couple's laundry hung from a thin line, waving frantically in the wind that was now starting to pick up._

_It was warm and I could feel the moisture in the air, and the presence of the pigs and the horses, and the little chickens... their existence, and the fact that they were watching me..._

_So many leaves and little wisps of hay twirled about. For a second, one split second in time, I tried to catch a certain red leaf. It was a gorgeous thing, the most beautiful leaf I had ever seen. Full of such life, and promise... but the leaf was already dying. It was only so beautiful because it was still alive. It was intimidating, but yet so gentle- radiant with the color of blood._

_It was also young._

_It had fallen away from the tree too soon, and it was dying._

_This thought occurred to me, and it felt very familiar. It felt important, even though my moment with the twirling leaf was brief and interrupted. For one second, or even half of a second, I wasn't scared._

_But now, I was back to reality._

_Lightning flashed across the sky. It made no sound, but the burst of light startled me._

_I didn't care that I had no clothes on. _

_By this time, the drying laundry on the line was dancing and running about, trying to fly away. I knew that the wife would come and try to retrieve it all before the rain came._

_I ripped a bed sheet from the line and ran._

"Please help me! Please!" I banged on the smooth wooden door frantically. It was dark out and raining heavily, not to mention quite cold. After only a couple of seconds, a startled woman wearing a simple, light blue dress answered the door.

"Oh, bless me! Are you okay, miss?!" she cried, surprised.

"I'm so sorry... I don't know where I am!" I continued to shout breathlessly. "I have no idea where I am!"

"It's okay, child! Please, come in!" The woman told me.

I stepped into the house, dotting the smooth floor with water droplets. This seemed incredibly noticeable and it caused me to panic and cover the drops with one bare foot. The house, from what I could already see despite the chaos, was kept very clean and well taken care of. I felt very out of place at the time- a distracting smudge against a clean white canvas.

"I'm Skye." I blurted. There was a strange safety in using this fake name, as I couldn't recall my real one.

"Oh! I'm Ms. Abigale." The woman replied, somewhat taken off guard, as she looked me up and down. I was a sight. "Please, follow me! It'll be aw'right."

I knew that I probably looked _very_ strange, running into a stranger's home with a bed sheet wrapped around my body, my hair soaking wet. From my slight base knowledge of history, I knew that this African-American woman who allowed me in probably didn't own the house itself, but was instead somebody who helped take care of the family that lived in it. I still wasn't very sure what the exact year was, but it was very evident that slavery was either still legal or recently abolished. The woman, Ms. Abigale, seemed comfortable and content in her surroundings. I could tell she enjoyed living here; the spark of life was clearly represented though the way she held herself. Another clue was that America was obviously a blooming country, judging by the far distance between houses, and the fact that nearly everywhere I turned, there was an immense amount of untouched or farmed land. I decided this to myself as I was led into a tidy bedroom by Ms. Abigale.

"Now, miss, I don't want you to go 'round worryin'." Ms. Abigale explained, very sympathetically, as she allowed me a seat on a very comfortable looking bed. It felt very strange, and almost ironic, sitting on a wet bed sheet while at the same time sitting on a dry bed sheet. "This farm is owned by a very nice family. They would be happy to help you out in any way they can."

I watched as Ms. Abigale smoothed out her apron and lit a few more candles so that she could examine her rain-washed visitor in a better light. It sometimes scared me when people looked me in the eyes, as she was doing. I always felt that they could learn things about me from doing this that I didn't mean for them to find out. Ms. Abigale was only trying to help though, so I didn't look away from her.

"Now let's see... you don't look hurt. You aren't hurt, are you, child?"

"N-no. Well, I mean... I'm not experiencing any sort of... displeasure." I swallowed and looked up. I delicately made sure to sound as proper as I thought I possibly could. I didn't want to sound like a fool.

"Any kind of pain is normally the best way to tell if something is wrong. You jus' seem scared to me."

"Oh, I'm, uh... I'm certainly shaken up, for sure." I agreed. My voice shook a little from cold. I looked down at my toes, perhaps the coldest part of my body, and noticed that they were pink with numbness.

"Jus' stay here. I'm goin' to get Mr. Martin. He's the owner of this house. He's suppos' to be resting at this hour, but he might be reading." Ms. Abigale held up a single candle to take with her. "Of course, it would be rude of me to not go and find out. I'll be right back, child."

As Ms. Abigale left, I felt a small wave of anxiety wash over me. That, combined with already feeling chilly, was moderately discomforting. I clutched my bed sheet and rubbed my damp palms together. It dawned on me that Ms. Abigale made me feel a bit safer and a little less confused, like everything was going to be alright. I felt a motherly vibe from her that must have been admired greatly by this Martin family that lived in the house.

Now that she was gone for a brief moment, however, the candle light seemed a little dimmer and the darkness seemed stronger. Nearly everything in the room was carved out of wood or crafted out of metal. Natural light or light from a fire had to be utilized in order to see anything, because electric inventions were not yet invented, from what I could tell. There was a simplistic beauty to everything that both intimidated and calmed my mind and body the more I dwelled on my situation and observed my surroundings. My eyes began to slowly adjust to the beautiful furniture and other decorations that were scattered about the room in such an organized fashion.

"Miss Skye!" I heard Ms. Abigail call from a distance away. Her voice echoed off of the ceiling. "Mr. Martin and I are here!"

I tried to sit up and look presentable as I noticed Ms. Abigail and a man enter the room after a brief moment. The man, presumably Mr. Martin, stepped forward and extended his hand.

"Hello, miss. I've been told that you came here scared, looking for help. Is there any way that I can assist you?" Mr. Martin asked in a pleasant tone. I was amazed at how non-judgmental he was towards my unsightly appearance.

"Well..." I said, shaking his hand. "My name is Skye, as... as you know, I'm sure."

Ms. Abigail nodded. She probably told him everything that she knew herself about me, which wasn't much, but it was enough that he didn't have to ask about my attire, or lack thereof.

"And, um... sir... to tell you the absolute truth, I have no idea where I am." I took in a breath and Mr. Martin nodded. "I woke up in this town with absolutely no clothing on. I was in... in a barn, or something, and I heard people coming so I stole... well," I added in embarrassingly, "I _guess_ I ended up stealing this older couple's laundry, as you can see. I wasn't thinking much about what I was doing at the time."

Mr. Martin smiled and nodded. Behind his eyes, I noticed a small source of worry. He was very good at hiding it though... I wonder if he had trained himself to do that?

"My main concern," I continued carefully, "is that this isn't a place I recognize. Where I come from... um, where I come from, things are a lot... different."

"What do you mean, Skye?" Mr. Martin asked, concerned. "I might be able to help you find out where you should be."

"It's very hard to explain... I don't think you would believe me."

"It all seems very believable so far, if not very strange, and I would really like to help you out if there is any way."

"Well... I don't think I'm from... this time." I tried to explain carefully, but it came out rather blunt. "By 'this time', I mean... this _year_."

"You feel that you are from a different time?" Mr. Martin smiled again. I nodded gently and gave him a small smile, feeling that he didn't quite understand what I meant... and how could I expect him to? "Miss, I feel I'm from a different time too. I _know_ that I'm from a different time. Things are happening so quickly these days, and everything seems to be changing. But it's changing for the better."

"Perhaps... my full explanation should be saved for a better time, Mr. Martin." I smiled weakly again. There would be time later to explain to him where and when I was from, if need be.

"You may call me Benjamin, or Ben. Your choosing." He smiled back. "And I understand. Well... I don't fully understand, but..." He looked back at Ms. Abigale and exchanged a smile, "I would be asking too much of you to have you continue your story while you're already so exhausted."

"I'm sorry," I told him, feeling incredibly guilty. "I want to continue telling you, but..."

"It is quite alright. You need rest." Benjamin nodded. "But first... I think Ms. Abigale here could help you find something to wear. Would you?"

"Yes, sir." she chimed in.

"Really?" I asked, excited. I thought olden dresses were very beautiful and had always wanted to try on a well-made one. However, most replicas were very expensive, and never created exactly the "right" way. They lacked a certain feel to them that reminded me of the time I was now stuck in. It felt strange that this was the only way that at least one of my very small dreams could come true.

"Well, yes! Unless you want to wear... laundry, for the night?" Benjamin laughed. I blushed and nodded for what seemed to be the fiftieth time. It was getting a little annoying at this point, but I wasn't feeling vastly expressive. Benjamin didn't seem to notice this, and turned to Ms. Abigale, who was busy looking through various dresses from inside of a closet, and sighed.

"Well, I think I should excuse myself, for now. Please come for me if you need anything." he spoke privately to Ms. Abigale.

"Yes, sir." Ms. Abigale replied politely.

"It's late, but Gabriel and Thomas might still be awake. I'm not sure about the other children, but if they were not already awake before, the noise we've been causing would have probably changed that."

"You have children?" I interrupted. I wasn't good around young children, but if they were older I might be able to manage.

Benjamin turned around and nodded. I felt rude about interrupting, but he didn't seem to notice or mind. "I have seven children who live here with me, Skye."

"Seven?!"

"You seem surprised!" Benjamin Martin laughed. "I guess that's a large number, but they're all very helpful and kind. My eldest sons help with farm work, and my other children are teaching themselves to read, and also to count."

"I certainly wish _I_ knew people with that much ambition..." I murmured, mostly to myself. People from the 21st century are lazy.

"This is a very blessed family. I think you will get along well with my children." he smiled. Nodding to both Ms. Abigale and me, he bid us goodnight and walked back upstairs. Ms. Abigale took out a very simple, cream-colored dress with gentle lace and few beads. She held it out for me to see.

"Would this suit you for now, Skye?" Ms. Abigale asked me.

"That would suit me _forever_!" I bursted. The simple beauty of the dress made me feel like I was being spoiled, and for a moment I was able to forget feeling anxious about being in a stranger's home. "That's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen!"

Ms. Abigale grinned. "Child, I made this! That is the greatest compliment I've recieved in a long time."

I smiled, scooting closer to observe the dress closely. The beads were small and looked like baby pearls, but I knew that they were probably fake. Either way, it didn't matter to me at all. The dress was amazing. I started to finger the beads and lace as Ms. Abigail set the dress down on the bed. "Who did you make this dress for, originally?" I said, hoping to strike up pleasant conversation. I suddenly felt very talkative, for whatever reason. Excitement does that to me.

"I made it for Mrs. Martin, who is no longer with us." Ms. Abigale said. "God bless her. Sweetest woman I ever knew."

"Oh... I'm sorry." I said, really wishing I didn't ask.

"It's okay, child. Everything happens for a reason."

I nodded and looked down. I had already interrupted Mr. Martin while he was having a private conversation with Ms. Abigale, and then I asked a foolish question. I guess even in this century I still manage to screw things up.


	2. Morning Sunlight

**Chapter 2:**

"Ms. Abigale?" I asked gently. This was going to be one of my only chances to figure this out.

"Yes, miss?" she turned around.

"What year is it?"

"1776. Wait... you didn't know the year?" she replied, looking confused.

"No! I mean... I just, uh... I don't focus on it. Sometimes I forget. Like sometimes we forget our birthdays." I thought quickly. "Do you ever forget your birthday?"

"I guess sometimes. Just once or twice in my life." she thought to herself, and then looked at me. The confusion in her expression was greatly reduced, but she still looked skeptical of me and was probably wondering if she needed to examine my head. After a few minutes though, she seemed to calm down. I guess we were just going to pretend I didn't even ask such a seemingly stupid question.

"Well, that's good." I smiled.

_Well, at least now I know_, I thought.

I had decided to myself that I wasn't going to let it matter.

_______________

Ms. Abigale had already excused herself so that I could change into my temporary nightdress. Luckily, such a delicately elegant dress was made to slip over the body naturally and did not require a corset. I didn't need, nor want, to go through the burden of learning to place one of those on, and I was pretty sure Ms. Abigale was quite aware of that while she made her selection. I decided to make the final adjustments on putting on my dress and then realized that it must have been very late. The rain was tapping against the windows more rapidly and the darkness was more evident. _It was early evening when I woke up in that barn_, I thought to myself, _but it took me quite a long time to avoid being seen and to find a house that seemed far enough away from where I had come from._

Sighing, I layed back on the bed and made sure not to fall asleep on my damp, wavy brown hair. I was sure the dress that I was wearing was for morning wear, but I guess when you're reduced to nothing but a sheet wrapped around your body, anything goes. I really, really hoped that I was cut out for what was happening to me, and I hoped to God that I wasn't going to be a burden to these people who had so graciously let me into their home.

Tomorrow was going to be a long and very strange day.

________________

When there are seven children living in a house, at least one or two of them are bound to stumble upon a strange girl sleeping in one of their guest rooms. It's kind of expected, and it should also probably be noted that when this occurs, you should pretend to still be asleep. That's what I chose to do, anyways. I knew there were two younger boys looking down at me, wondering how I got there and why I was even in their house to begin with.

"Do you think father knows?" a little voice piped.

"Of course father knows, otherwise he would have gotten her out of here!" a slightly older voice replied, irritated.

"But what if he doesn't know? What if she's a British spy?"

"Why would a British spy be a _girl_? Girls aren't allowed to be spies."

"Sure they are!"

"No! They aren't!"

"Ask Gabriel! He'll tell you!"

"What?!"

"He knows everything!"

"He won't tell me anything, Samuel, he'll ask why there's a girl sleeping in the guest bedroom!"

"Well _first_ he'd ask that. Then he'd get to the telling."

It was all too much. I was trying to hard not to smile at the little argument I was hearing between these two little boys who were more than 200 years older than me, yet who couldn't decide what to do when a stranger was asleep right in front of them.

"This will never be decided. Father!" the older boy yelled out.

"Father!" Samuel called in unison.

They both continued to call out for "Father" while I heard their footsteps leave the room in a fury. A few seconds later, I heard a second set of footsteps enter. I thought it was Ms. Abigale, coming to wake me.

The feet stopped at my bed, and I sighed.

"Are they gone?" I asked. When I didn't get a reply, I asked again. "Ms. Abigale? Are they gone?"

"I-I'm not Ms. Abigale..."

I darted open my eyes and looked up. A boy with dark brown hair held back into a small ponytail was looking down at me, fascinated but startled. I noticed that the hair he had that couldn't make it into the ponytail hung near his face and helped frame it, slightly. There was something very exciting about him. It felt weird and I shook my head.

"I'm sorry. I... hello." I said nervously. I felt my face burning up a little bit. There came the anxiety again.

"Who are you?" he asked defensively. When he saw that I looked content and non-threatening, he made himself look taller, to fake or prove confidence. In my opinion, he was probably faking it, but was able to hold his own in a vast amount of other situations. Then again, I don't know him... but sometimes, you can learn a lot from observing a person's body language.

"My name is Skye," I told him the same old lie, sitting up. "What's your name?"

"I'm Thomas Martin." he said in a practiced tone. He reached for my hand and held it up to kiss it, but then quickly placed it down and stepped back, looking embarrassed. I smiled. He was young, like me, and learning how to be a gentleman.

"Would you like to sit down?" I asked in a pleasant tone. I had noticed that he forgot to ask why I was, you know, in his house. Maybe a first name was enough to satisfy, to show that I had a right to be there and wasn't hiding anything. I guess he'd just find out later, along with the rest of the Martin clan.

"On... on here?" he asked, pointing to the bed. I nodded and he threw his hand back to his side. He stiffened up slightly and sat next to me, a foot or two away.

"Are you okay, Thomas Martin?" I asked.

"I'm just tired... just woke up." he nodded, looking straight ahead.

"No," I said in a relaxed tone, looking at the right side of his face. "I thought I heard you shouting at a boy named Nathan outside earlier this morning, in my sleep. You were yelling at him about putting something in your food?" I smiled. "That _was_ your voice, I think..."

It was partially true, anyways. I didn't know for sure that it was this boy's voice that I heard, but it actually was hard for me to sleep. I kept waking up during the night from nightmares.

"Yes, I'm sorry." he said quickly. "I'm not very good at this."

"At what?"

"Talking to women." At this, he blushed profusely and stood up, walking towards the door. Before leaving, he took an awkward bow and left, looking flustered. I stared at the door for a few seconds, a tiny part of myself hoping he'd come back so I could talk to him more. When he didn't, I sighed and looked out the window.

It was gorgeous. There were woods beyond the Martin's farm, and I could see tall, aged oak trees and fields of grass and flowers. Between most of this landscape were the crops. I couldn't tell what many of them were, but the corn crops were easy to identify. There were a few men working on chopping, picking, and plowing, and what surprised me the most was how happy they looked doing it. I was absorbed in every beautiful detail of the scene, taking in the fact that this would all be gone by the time I got home.

I sighed again and then inched up, startled. Thomas was outside, sitting against a tree. From what I could tell, he didn't seem like the kind of guy to just sit around all day. An older boy, who had blond hair, noticed this and rode over on a horse. He leaned down and handed a musket to Thomas. I could see them exchanging words, but I couldn't hear what they were saying from so far away. I saw the blond boy shake his head and point towards the house. Thomas nodded. At this, I ducked a little bit and continued to watch carefully, the slightest rays of sunlight hinting at my exposed eyes. The older boy rode, striding slowly towards the house. Thomas continued to sit down under the shade of the tree for a few more moments, and then placed his musket against the tree and reluctantly followed his older brother as they both approached the house. I sat back on the bed and groaned.

"Hello Miss Skye!" Ms. Abigale greeted me as she walked through the door. She had a small platter with some assorted fruit placed on it.

"I didn't know what you liked, and the Martins already had breakfast very early this mornin', so I gave you somethin' nice from the fruit basket."

"Oh, no, this is okay..." I told her as I looked at the delicious looking oranges and apples. "I was just going to eat the next time everybody else does. At least then people who noticed me wouldn't be so startled."

"What? Ooooh, you ran into Samuel and Nathan, did'n you?" Ms. Abigale smiled knowingly. "They cause a ruckus over everythin'. Don't worry about them."

"It wasn't just them. Well... it would have been, if they'd have stopped yelling so much about the possibility of me being a British spy or something. Whatever_ that's _supposed to mean."

"They just boys, they'll come up with the most exciting excuse they can."

"Yeah. And they attracted another..." I flushed at this slightly and ignored it, "another boy into the room, who was older."

"Gabriel?"

"No, he said his name was Thomas. He seemed really nervous for some reason." I noted. "Is he just like that?"

"Nervous?" Ms. Abigale had to laugh at this. "Child, he's the most adventurous, outgoing boy I ever known. He wants to do everythin'. He helps Gabriel hunt, too."

"Oh. I guess Gabriel is the one with blond hair?" I guess that was another mystery solved.

"You saw him too?"

"Well yeah, I think Thomas told him I was here. I saw them outside." I grumbled slightly, thinking about the whirlwind of awkward greetings I'd soon have to encounter.

"At least everybody is gettin' along." Ms. Abigale smiled again. "I'll see you later."

"Goodbye for now." I smiled back weakly. I placed the platter on a night stand next to the bed and started peeling an orange. Now that my mind was clear, and I understood all of my encounters, I couldn't help but wonder about Thomas. If he was the most 'adventurous, outgoing' boy Ms. Abigale had ever known, why did he act so clumsy in my presence?


	3. Mirror Eyes

**Chapter 3:**

I knew that Gabriel and Thomas were going to enter the house soon, because they were both walking across the front porch. I decided the best approach to this problem- as I had to end up learning with Thomas, Nathan, and Samuel- was to present myself first before anybody got startled or scared. I carried my half-eaten orange with me to show that I was normal, just like everybody else, and that I was eating and interacting. Pretty smooth idea, right? I thought it was pretty clever. Just to add to the vision, I peeled off a section of the orange and carried it in my other hand, looking like a walking advertisement for some random farm orange that had, to me, an unknown origin.

I moved a little bit in place to pump myself up for new adventures and discoveries. The steady movement helped me regain my confidence and composure. Well... I never really had much confidence to begin with, but this was a new start was far as I was concerned._ At least until I get home safely, _I added in quickly.

I stuck my head out of the bedroom door and looked around the smooth hallway. There were a few nice pictures hanging on the wall that I didn't notice last night, along with some small tables with assorted items on them. I walked down the hallway, remembering where the front door was, and stood in front of it, ready for Gabriel and Thomas's entry. Unfortunately, I was a little too close to the door, so when Gabriel opened it, I fell over on Thomas and ended up landing right on him.

"Oooof!" I moaned.

"Are you okay?" Thomas clamored, still shocked from what happened. Gabriel looked down, wide-eyed, but then chuckled when he noticed nobody was actually hurt.

"I'm fine! _You're_ the one who got landed on!" I gasped, and then noticed what was making Gabriel start to crack up: my orange slice landed on Thomas' shirt and had smashed there when I landed, popping juice all over him. Thomas hat had also fallen off. Meanwhile, the rest of the orange was rolling around on the porch somewhere. A young girl and a little boy were looking over at us, giggling. The boy, who had been reading off of flash cards that the girl was showing him, picked up the dirty orange and started playing with it. The spunky little girl seemed amused at my unexpected presence.

"This is completely my fault. I'm so sorry, Thomas." I explained, apologetic. "I can fix your shirt."

"Yes, Thomas, orange juice _does_ comes out of fabric, you know." Gabriel joked around.

"It isn't that funny, she could've been hurt." Thomas said as he scooted out from under me and stood up, brushing his shirt off. He held the part of his shirt that got splashed out with his finger tips, while Gabriel shook his head in a serious manner, regaining his mature composition.

"I know, Thomas. I'm sorry." Thomas shook his head in return and looked down at his shirt again. "So," Gabriel continued, "you must be the 'pretty guest without a surname' I heard about."

"Well, my name is Skye," I stated, still crouched on the floor, "and I- wait, what?"

"Hey!" Thomas shouted.

"Oh, yes. Skye." Gabriel chuckled again and patted his younger brother on the shoulder. "Do you need help getting up?" he asked me.

"No, I should be fine." I told him, my heart slowing down from the sudden unexpected jolt it experienced when Gabriel directly quoted Thomas. Was I so much a fool that I forgot to give a fake last name, as well? No fixing that now, I suppose.

I stood up and then yelped, falling over again. It was actually more of a scream-yelp, something like the sound a small dog makes when you step on it's tail, which made it even more surprising. This time, Thomas tried to help me up. He placed his arms under mine and lifted me while I got up on one leg. He continued to hoist me up so that I wouldn't lose my balance and fall over again.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Gabriel asked.

"Yeah, my foot hurts _really_ badly." I winced. Physical pain isn't always that bad. At least in this case, anyways.

"Oh, you've got a large splinter stuck in your heel, about an inch or two in." Gabriel noticed, sighing. I gulped slightly and looked up at Thomas, who was still supporting me. There wasn't any bleeding, but he looked as concerned as Gabriel and I did.

"I must have fallen pretty hard, to get a splinter in my heel. That's, uh, really thick skin."

"I know," Gabriel agreed, sighing again. "And it's going to be tedious, miss, taking the entire splinter out."

I shook my head and looked down, taking in the stinging pain in my heel. I could feel Thomas looking down at the expression on my face and then looking at Gabriel quickly.

"I can bring her inside." Thomas volunteered.

Gabriel nodded and waved back to his horse. "It's best you do. At least one of us has to go back to hunt, and it might as well be the most experienced." He took off his hat and bowed his head to the both of us, leaving to trot back towards his huge, brown horse.

"You wish," Thomas muttered under his breath in Gabriel's direction.

"Haha!" I laughed. Thomas grinned and then helped me get some stable footing on the ground. Meanwhile, the little boy and girl I had seen already went back to learning the alphabet with those flash cards, and I couldn't help but notice how they were the only people I had seen all day that didn't make a huge commotion about my presence. Young children always seem ready for anything.

While Thomas helped me back to my room, I felt myself getting used to the pain. It was almost as if the splinter was planning on making a permanent home in my foot, and we were moving it right back out to go "live" somewhere else... like a trash can. _Ha!_

"Thank you so much..." I sighed as Thomas sat me down on the bed.

"Would you like me to call for my father? He can take the splinter out for you." Thomas said.

"No, that's okay. He's probably busy." I looked over at the bed stand and then looked back at Thomas. "Would you like to help me?" Thomas looked right at me and opened his mouth a little bit, then closed it. The sort of thing you do when you're trying to catch a thought and then miss it. "That is, if you want. You probably have things to do."

"N- no." Thomas shook his head, breaking up his thoughts. "No, that's okay," his voice cracked slightly at "that's". I found it somewhat adorable because it showed that he was a little nervous, probably at having to do the kind of task that his father should have been taking care of.

Thomas sat down and opened up a small brown bag attached to his hip. He took a small white cloth out that appeared to be wrapped around a set of metal toy soldiers, and gripped at the chunk of wood stuck in my foot. It stung pretty badly as he wiggled it out of my heel, but I didn't want to make that obvious. _At least he had something to catch the blood_, I thought as a trickle started to dribble out of the wound as the splinter became loose. When he was able to finally take the main piece of wood out, I let out a hiss because the injury really stung when it made contact with oxygen. Thomas stopped working on my foot for a moment and looked over at me, inching up slightly.

"It's alright, Thomas." I smiled, with effort. I leaned my head back and Thomas continued pulling little pieces of wood out of my foot. He leaned back and examined the hole.

"I don't have anything to clean it with." he muttered.

"That's okay, all I'm worried about doing is covering it up for now." I smiled again to reassure him. "We can worry about cleaning it later." Thomas nodded and wrapped my foot up with the same white cloth he used to catch the tiny trickles of blood, winding the cloth around securely until there was only enough left at the ends to tie it all together. I sighed, this time with relief, because the injury no longer stung as much as it was a few seconds ago.

"You're a life saver." I told Thomas, patting his shoulder gently like his brother had done only ten minutes before. The only difference was that my hand lingered on his shoulder for a moment longer, feeling the warmth radiating from it. Thomas looked over at me gently and I slid my hand off of his shoulder, causing him to blush profusely.

"There's something I don't understand about you." I said quietly.

"What?"

"You were so awkward and shy with me before you went outside to talk to Gabriel. Why are you okay now?" I was really curious at this point.

"Gabriel told me that father allowed you to stay here. That you were a guest." he explained. "I was startled because I expected you to be asleep."

"So why'd you come in here earlier? To watch me sleep?"

"Well, no." he shuffled his feet around a little bit. "My brothers ran out of the room yelling for our father, so I assumed something had happened."

_No argument there, better change subject._ "I like your hat." I commented. It was completely off-subject. Thomas noticed this and smiled, taking his hat off and holding it in his hands.

"I wear this almost everywhere I go." he told me as admired the hat. "I take it hunting, I wear it when we go into town... which is rarely, of course. I wear it... when I go outside, when I do everything."

"Do you wear it when you take a bath?" I asked jokingly.

"No!"

"Then you don't wear it when you're doing everything." I smiled cheekily. Thomas laughed and put his hat back on.

"When do we have dinner?" I asked. It seemed like several hours passed, when the reality of the situation was that I was probably only awake for about one.

"Normally around 1:00 pm." Thomas answered expertly. "Then again, I don't know what arrangements will be made, with you here." To clarify, dinner was considered lunch back in these days. Actual dinner was called supper.

"I don't expect anything to change just because I'm here." I answered, lowering my eyes. "I don't want to affect other people's schedules. I'm just a guest."

"You've already affected my schedule," Thomas smiled, looking over at my bandaged foot. "Nobody would mind. Really! The same things happen every single day around here."

"Change is good?" I asked, looking up.

"Very good. It gets so boring, when everything is predictable." Thomas smiled again. I smiled back and looked into his eyes for a moment. They were a beautiful light shade of gray. When the afternoon sunlight streaming from the open window reflected on them, they looked like glass. His skin was somewhat pale, which was a surprise since he was always outside hunting and doing other various chores for his family. In my opinion, though, the gray hue against the pale shade only helped enhance the audacious mystery behind his eyes.

"Oh, damn!" I broke from my beautiful thought. _Purposely, of course... _"I forgot about my oranges." Thomas looked over at the bed stand, along with me, as I grabbed an orange and started peeling it. "Wait..."

"What is it?" Thomas asked, ignoring my curse.

"I completely forgot to help clean the mess I made on your shirt." I told him, putting the orange back with a thud. "That was stupid of me."

"No, it's alright." Thomas told me, bowing his head. "Ms. Abigale takes care of cleaning the clothes."

"But it's an easy fix," I protested, standing up. "I'm going to go find some soap and a wet cloth. Honestly," I told Thomas as he continued to sit down on the bed looking up at me, "this is no problem. And I want to fix it." I added quickly. I scurried out the door and then placed myself against the hallway wall, letting out a shaking sigh.

_I actually had a real conversation with him! So perhaps I won't mess this all up, after all._ Of course, sense kicked in as well. _It doesn't matter. He isn't a part of your time. _And then, anxiety and fear decided to have a say. _This is a bad, bad idea! This is stupid! You're stupid, don't make us go through with this!_

"Shut up," I finally whispered to myself. "I'm the one who makes the decisions, I'm deciding for myself, not some random section of my brain. The whole deal. And," I added, putting up my finger, before more panicked thoughts could enter my head, "I'm going to clean up the mess that I made. That's the polite thing to do."

_You're so mischievous. Like you really have to clean up that orange juice. I love it!_ my rebellious side added in moments after, as I was walking from the hallway to find a cloth in the kitchen.

"Oh, shut up." I repeated to myself.


	4. You're Different

**Chapter 4:**

When I finally found the kitchen, which wasn't far from the hallway, I saw Ms. Abigale in there washing dishes._ Those dishes were probably used the previous night, hours before I even found this place_, I thought.

It felt a little strange to walk, but once I got the hang of pressing my injured foot against ground, the pain started to become something I didn't even think about. Something I noticed about the house was the wooden floor. One of the most annoying things to me in the whole entire world, besides sudden loud, unexpected sounds, were floors that were unstable enough to squeak from pressure. I was pleasantly surprised that the Martin household had such a clean, sturdy floor. Cleanliness was one of my many loves. While walking across the glistening kitchen, I started to imagine Thomas taking a mop to the wooden floor and carefully cleaning it, without having to be asked by anybody, because he was just kind enough to do it.

_"Oh Thomas! You didn' have to clean the floor for me!" Ms. Abigail would shout gleefully._

_"I only did it because I'm such a great man." Thomas would reply, shrugging._

I continued thinking through this scenario, in unnecessary detail.

"Miss Skye!" Ms. Abigale said kindly, looking away from her dishes. "May I assist you with anything?"

"It's okay, I just wanted to find a wet cloth. Maybe with a little bit of soap rubbed on it." I told her casually.

"I can give you one right now." Ms. Abigale looked at me, confused. "What ever would you need one for though?"

"I accidentally fell on Thomas, squished an orange all over his shirt, and the juice stained it... well, orange." I smiled embarrassingly and tapped my foot. Sometimes I tapped my foot when I was in an embarrassing situation. Other times, if I was sitting down, my leg would start vibrating.

"You know as well as anybody else around here that it's my job to clean up things like that." Ms. Abigale shook her head.

"I just wanted to fix what was my own doing."

"Well, I can't argue with that." Ms. Abigale shook her head again and handed me a cloth that she placed into a clean batch of water. It was about to be used to soak dishes in.

"Thank you so much." I said, taking the cloth. "I-"

Suddenly, little Nathan and Samuel ran into the kitchen, but stopped when they noticed me. Samuel stopped himself so quickly that he almost slid across the floor and into a cabinet full of dishes. I laughed and scratched my head, remembering our last "encounter".

"Ms. Abigale, where is father?" Nathan asked, ignoring me. Samuel continued to stare at me, probably juggling around in his head whether or not I was allowed to be there.

"He went over to the stream. He said he was getting something ready." Ms. Abigale worked on her dishes.

"A surprise?!" the both of them shouted at slightly different times.

"No. And anyways, it isn't for you." Ms. Abigale winked in my direction. I cocked my head at her and then looked over at Nathan and Samuel, who were probably incredibly confused by this time.

"Who are you?" Nathan asked.

"Well, I'm not a British spy, if that's what you're asking." I smirked. The both of them looked at one another and then back at me. Samuel scooted a little bit behind his brother.

"Where'd you come from?"

"I don't know." I decided. Any time somebody asked me this, I'd just tell them I didn't know. That would clear up that whole time confusion.

"Are you a vagabond?"

"Nathan!" Ms. Abigale looked in his direction, appalled.

"Uhhh, no." I scratched my head again. "I need to get back to something, excuse me..."

"Before you go, Miss Skye, I've been meaning to ask. What is your favorite dessert?" Ms. Abigale asked me. Nathan and Samuel got bored by this time and went off to go find something to do. I stood there and thought for a little while.

"I like cheesecake, I guess." I answered, shrugging. I didn't know why she asked. My mind was just focused on Thomas. I didn't want him to give up on waiting for me and leave, or something.

While leaving the kitchen, wet cloth in hand, I passed by a mirror in the hallway that I had not noticed before. I looked at myself in it, instinctively. My eyes were bright with energy, and glowed amber in the light of the afternoon, but last night had done some horrible things to my hair. It was normally wavy and long in the first place, but was now slightly wavier and somewhat frizzy at the top. It was thick, so normally I left it alone and let it dry the way it wanted to. It was impossible to do much else to it. I guess I had to get used to seeing myself look a bit natural, as everybody else did.

_Not that it actually matters_, I reprimanded myself as I continued to walk.

"Hello, Thomas." I smiled and kept my eyes down as I entered the room, now profoundly aware of how I looked. He was still sitting on the bed, holding something small in his hand. When I came in though, he placed it back into that small brown bag on his hip and looked over at me.

"I'm going to clean you up now. Is that alright?" I sat down.

"Yes." he nodded.

I carefully took the cloth and made sure none of the excess water started dripping on the gorgeous bed spread. Looking over at Thomas's shirt, I noticed that it was made of very thin material and would have been impossible to clean unless I wanted to get his chest _and_ the shirt wet.

"Pardon me for this, Thomas."

Thinking quickly, and then blushing, I gently inched my hand under his shirt and placed that same hand behind where the orange stain was. Thomas looked down at what I was doing and said nothing, but I could sense the warmth seeping up from his cheeks. I pressed the wet cloth to the fabric that was against my hand and started to dab at the orange juice. It was tricky to get out, probably because of the acids, but I continued to dab slowly at the shirt while looking up at Thomas again, my eyes hiding behind lashes. He noticed me looking at him anyway.

He just kept looking down at me, calmly.

"I... I think this is all I can do for now." I told him, observing the nearly-clean shirt.

"You're different."

"What?" I looked up. There had been complete silence for several minutes while I cleaned his shirt, but it was suddenly broken.

"You're different. In a good way."

"Ah." _How was I supposed to respond to that? It doesn't even make any-_

"Everybody else is the same. So worried about being proper. You admitted to making a mistake, and you fixed it."

"Oh... well, I..."

"You do whatever you can to fix it, even if it means sacrificing your pride."

"Thomas. You don't know me." I calmly stated. "And besides, all I did was clean your shirt. I-"

"I know enough." he said, standing up. I stood up as well, feeling like there was fire in my stomach. "I know quite enough. Skye?"

"Yes?"

"I hope that you may decide to stay for longer." Thomas bowed, and then walked out the door slowly.

"It isn't up to me." I said to an empty room. I didn't know what else I was supposed to do.

Eventually, I decided to lay my head back and nap.


	5. Lonely Thoughts

**Chapter 5:**

When I eventually woke up, there were quite a few things on my mind.

First of all, nobody even knew why I was there. Well, besides Mr. Martin and Ms. Abigale, of course. And even they had a pretty sketchy idea- that I was simply knocked out and maybe lost my memory. What they didn't know is that my memory was pretty intact. I just... well, I didn't know how I ended up in such a strange time and place, and I didn't really know much about my identity (though certain bits were coming back to me the longer I stayed awake). But that part was a bit difficult to explain, since I wouldn't even understand what I was talking about, and I had already made myself look like a fool on several occasions in my few hours of staying in the Martin household.

I had helped Thomas and he had helped me, and so it was perfectly reasonable to assume that we were on pretty good terms and would get along well for however long I had to stay. That is what anybody viewing us would assume. But if they had stepped closer and had seen the way he looked at me, with such understanding and curiosity, and how I had looked at him and read bits and pieces of his soul through those gray eyes of his, they might pick up on the connection and the energy we seemed to share.

I didn't know the boy. I really didn't. I didn't know how old he was, or what his middle name was, or what he liked to do in his free time, or what he hated, or maybe if he didn't hate or love anything at all but that he was just as confused as I was about this strange and beautiful world, with the tall trees and never-ending forests. Maybe we were both lost. And maybe, if I was just as lucky as I felt, we were both found.

Or... perhaps I was reading too much into it, as usual. He looked at me in such calm wonder with those amazing eyes and porcelain face, but perhaps it was only my imagination that he felt anything at all. Perhaps everything was getting to me, and I was confused and scared and I needed some sort of magical comfort to hold on to. It was interesting, because I only knew Thomas for a few minutes. An hour, perhaps. Two... maybe. And half of that time wasn't even spent with him. Some of it was spent hearing or watching him from a distance on accident. He was very grabbing in a mysterious way, much like a dark forest or jewel-encrusted cave. There was so much to take in and try to understand. An innocence and a rebellion. A struggle, and perhaps amazing bravery.

He simply seemed like the sort of person who had a million different layers, but that most others didn't analyze properly because he was young and he didn't often show what was inside of his heart. He is, after all, a young man- and young men sometimes find weakness in showing what they feel and what they know.

Thomas, however, couldn't hide much from me. So long as I saw that face of his, and felt his steady heartbeat against my hand, I knew that he was living and breathing and full of something powerful and relieving that I could wrap myself around and relish in.

Needless to say, I wanted to see him again. And I wanted to see him again very soon. I just needed some sort of excuse. After all, young men might shield their emotions, but young women have the ability to bring those emotions out and forward- and God knew how much I wished to do so.

* * *

Later on, Gabriel showed me where I could find the medicine needed to disinfect my injury. He tried to scold Thomas for not properly patching me up as well, but I smiled and explained that he did a very good job of getting all of the wood and splinters out, and that he was "an absolute joy" to spend time with. At this, Thomas looked over at me from painting small metal soldiers and Gabriel smirked and led me into a different room.

"Miss Skye, how old are you?" he asked in a whisper.

"I'm 17 years old."

"Thomas is 15." he scratched the back of his head, looking as if he knew something I didn't.

"Oh really?" I said, tilting my head out the door to look back at Thomas painting. "He looks a little older than that. I would have wagered 16."

"You must tell me," he smiled and looked over at Thomas, and then to me. "I know you two are friendly with one another, but are you attempting to court him? Because I think it-"

"What?" I blushed. I had been there for less than a day. Courting? "Are you jesting?"

"Partially so. But he is coming of age, and I think-"

"What are you trying to suggest? I've only been here for one day, and I haven't even known him for as long as that." I was somewhat surprised at Gabriel's half-joke about courting his brother. What exactly was going on here?

"Exactly what I'm saying." Gabriel smiled, and then looked solemn. "He really wants to join the fighting, against the British. He is so set on it that Father has taken to locking up his old uniform and weapons, and setting a joining age for Thomas, just so that he will stop asking." He put his hand on my shoulder and led me farther away from the door, lowering his voice down even more. "We all hope secretly that his passion for joining will cool over the years. This war may never end, Skye, and it would be nice if he had something to... distract him, from all of that."

"Do you often try to use strangers as distractions and pawns?"

"Skye, listen..." he tried to reason.

"Look. You don't have to ask me to talk to Thomas and spend time with him. You don't have to beg me to do so. _How _could I not wish to do so regardless?" I quickened. "You just look at him, okay? Look at how he shines. You look, as an outsider would, not as a brother. And then you may tell me how I wouldn't wish to-" I stopped and swallowed. I had carried it much too far.

"I knew it!" Gabriel brightened. "I see! Very good news! I will leave you to that then. I will leave you to these thoughts." he smiled and bowed, ducking out of the room quickly.

"Agh!" I shouted and pounded at the floor with my uninjured foot, knowing I had been tricked into giving out the exact kind of information that an older brother would die for, all for the purpose of teasing and simply knowing something that the younger brother didn't. "Tricky bastard."

"Skye?" Thomas walked into the room without his metal soldiers. "Are you okay?"

"Oh!" I flushed. "Yes. Your brother just... tricked some information out of me. A secret, y'know?"

"I thought you had hurt your foot again." he frowned and looked down. "You are still wearing your night gown."

"My night...? Oh." I had remembered that, not only was I still wearing a night gown, but I must have looked horrible. Normally I took a shower each day, but...

Thomas smiled and looked down again. Then he started to smile again and covered his mouth.

"What is it?"

"I won't say." he burst.

"What is it? Please, Thomas?"

"Oh fine. There's this stupid rumor," he started, and looked around to make sure nobody was watching. I raised one brow and continued to watch him. "this household rumor going about. Well, I mean, it's more like a joke than anything else. Nobody truly-"

"Come on Thomas, out with it."

"They say that you're perhaps British royalty, or a spy or something." he flushed.

I pinched at one of the fake pearls on my sleeve, recalling what his younger brothers had yelled about earlier, and my face started to burn. These jokes truly were getting old. "What?"

"Nobody knows what to make of your appearance. You look like you've been washed up on a shore, and yet you have no connections and not even a surname, it appears. You're healthy and yet remember no home. Are you sure," he backed up, smiling, "that you are not simply a duchess or somesuch that was bonked on the head and left in the colonies? Or what?"

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and this isn't funny at all." I said with a straight face, taking more insult from the fact that he said I looked like I had been 'washed up on a shore'. "I don't remember how I got here but I'd certainly remember that. Wouldn't it be more plausible for everybody to just assume I was bonked on the head or something?."

Thomas shrugged, giving off the embarrassing stance of somebody who felt guilty about passing along false information.

I looked him straight in the eyes. "Thomas...please don't give stupid rumors like this the privilege of your spreading. Because believe me, I don't care what Ms. Abigail and your father speak in private about me, or what your little brothers say, I just want you to understand that all of this is so new to me. And I don't understand any of it."

I stopped for a second and glanced out the window. "I know I come without a name," I continued. "I know that. I know that it might seem like I've just... appeared out of nowhere, and that I mean something dangerous or significant. Trust me though, Thomas, please. I don't know what's going on. I'm confused and scared, and about a million other things. I feel like... oh God..." I winced, falling into a chair. Thomas came over and held my hand between both of his, not caring about modesty.

"Is this what everybody thinks?" I whispered. "Your father, and everybody else, I mean. Do they think I am a scandal or a danger?"

Thomas shook his head, frowning slightly. He didn't know, but I continued to think to myself. Mr. Martin and Ms. Abigail were happy enough to help me out when I had nowhere else to go, but now that I was in their home, I was a priority. I was to be taken care of and fed, obviously. What about work? What about everything else? Am I to be a sister to these children? I never once thought about it. If I couldn't get home, what would I do? I'd probably get sick and die before all else. I wasn't used to this scene, I wasn't used to living in the actual wilderness.

That was it then, I suppose. I was going to eventually die. I would live out here or be put someplace else, and everybody would always wonder who I was and why I existed. And then one day, I might die very painfully with sickness... or die by somebody else's hand because it was decided I was too suspicious to exist.

I shook my head, fighting back biting tears, and carefully rose out of the chair.

"Skye? Where are you going?" Thomas asked, sounding concerned.

I wanted to look back at him, but it would have been counterproductive to me trying to force my tears back.

"My room." I said softly, walking away from him.


	6. Discreet Assurance

**Chapter 6:**

I gracefully walked into my bedroom- so gracefully in fact, that anybody outside of my situation would not have been able to detect my sadness- and shut the door tightly. When I didn't hear anybody coming down the hallway, I slowly crawled into bed and started to cry into my arms.

The whole situation was terrible. It finally, honestly, completely hit me in the chest like a bullet. This family was taking care of me, and there was no way I could ever pay them back for doing that... especially considering there was a _war_ going on right at this very second. It was foolishly kind of them to have brought me into their home during such a dangerous time. They didn't know who I was. What if I actually _was_ some sort of spy? Honestly! And for the family to joke about it behind my back... that just made matters worse. How could I not feel awful? I was using up their space, eating their food, and wearing a dead mother's clothing. Everything I was doing was wrong. Nameless trash, I was. I sobbed and buried my face into my hands.

"Skye?" I heard from behind my door. It was Thomas's voice. I immediately paused.

_There is one thing I can do right though._

"Skye?"

_I will never let him know I'm crying._

"Skye..."

I stifled my crying and made sure he couldn't hear me making any noise. "I'm not feeling too well right now, Thomas. I think I'm going to stay here until dinner."

"...Alright."

Eventually he gave up and I could hear his footsteps walk away slowly, clanking gently against the wooden floor. After several minutes passed, I sniffled and sat up slowly, feeling hungry for an apple. I looked guiltily at the platter, and then remembered that Ms. Abigale had brought it to me personally. Carefully gripping at a large green apple, I noticed a small piece of folded paper hidden under the fruit. Curiously, I unfolded it and read:

_Miss Skye,_

_I wager you are feeling rather scared and confused, as anybody in your situation would feel. Please understand that you are very much welcome in the Martin household, and that if you ever need anybody to speak to, you know where to find me. _

_Benjamin Martin._

I reread the note- written in very proper shorthand- a few more times and then sat up straighter. I was welcome... and Mr. Martin purposely made sure that I was aware of this. He must have understood how I would feel about everything, and he had the grace to put extra effort into letting me know that I was welcome. Not only that, but he personally took time out of his day to discreetly pass this note on to me. My sadness was suddenly placed with a fierce excitement. I sloppily wiped my tears away and placed the note back under my apples and oranges.

I immediately knew what I was going to do with my time here: I was going to do everything I could to make my visit with the Martins worthwhile. I would learn to hack down the tobacco and barley, clean the house and cook a game bird, wash the clothes in the old fashion, build things, hunt, sew, run and skip through the wildflowers, laughing with joy as I rolled around in the untamed wilderness and the sunshine... God, I could do it all. It never truly dawned on me before where I was or what I was going to do, but now I could begin to formulate ideas and to understand. Why sit in a room all day when there was so much else to do?

"Thomas?" I called out, suddenly regretting my dismissal of him. My hand was clutched around the note.

After a few moments of sitting completely still, sniffing and allowing a few stray tears to dry under my eyes, I rearranged myself and looked out the window behind the bedpost. From what I could see, the children had gone back to working after being allowed a break. Samuel was busy picking large ears of corn in the distance (I could only see the top of his hat and a few wisps of his hair, drowning among the crops, but I would recognize his silly blond head anywhere) and placing them in a huge woven basket held by a visible worker, and Nathan was off somewhere, too far away for me to tell exactly what he was doing- possibly chasing off crows, since they seemed to screech and scatter whenever he ran down the fields. _That would probably mean_, I thought to myself, _that Thomas would have gone back hunting with Gabriel. That did seem to be his principle job around here... _

Excited, I looked around the room to see if there was anything I could wear for my feet. I already got hurt once today, and didn't want to step on something while I was outside again. When I couldn't see any shoes in sight, I got on my knees and started to reach my hands under the bed, hoping that perhaps there were some shoes down there that had been long forgotten.

Suddenly, fearing spider bites, I snatched one hand away from under the bed but continued to search with the other, pulling out a pair of white slippers among the scatter of old papers and other assorted items. They were pretty, albeit a bit dusty, but that could easily be taken care of with the swipe of a cleaning cloth. Before I could slip them over my feet, however, Ms. Abigale knocked on the door. I could tell it was her- she was normally humming softly while walking around the house, and at any rate, her feet tapped much more softly against the floor than Thomas's boots did.

"Miss Skye, I'm here to summon you." Ms. Abigale said sweetly, opening the door after knocking.

"Summon me?" I asked, still on the floor. Ms. Abigale looked down at me and smiled. "I found shoes." I added, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I probably should have told you where to find them, last night. I won't make such a mistake in future," she apologized, bowing her head slightly.

"Oh please!" I laughed, standing up. "It's my job to ask for help, not your job to tell me on instinct. I'm the guest. I am completely in your debt." I smiled, sweeping her a magnificent curtsy, as if she were a monarch and I a peasant.

"Somebody is in quite the mood!" she laughed back, leading the way. "At any rate, it is Mr. Benjamin Martin who wishes to see you. He wants to speak with you."

I followed behind Ms. Abigale at a quickened pace, trying not to slip around in shoes that were slightly too large for my feet._ I wonder what this could be about?_


End file.
